My Spencer
by TheologyDiscography
Summary: I know I should be working on my running stories, but I couldn't resist putting Sam and Spencer into a story together. Takes place immediately after the incident with Tobias Henkle for Spencer, and during Dean's time in hell for Sam. A smidge of kissing.
1. Chapter 1

Spencer smiled in his sleep as lips softly touched to his. His whole body relaxed at the safety and protectiveness implied in the gesture, but he didn't wake. The kisser smiled slightly as he pulled away to commandeer a chair next to the bed, knowing that his body had shielded the action from the others entering the room.

"Is he gonna be ok?" a woman's voice muttered worriedly on the other side of the room, making him look up from his study of Spencer's face.

"He'll be fine," he said in a gentle but determined voice.

"Who are you, anyway? You whispered something to the doctor and he let you in. We're his friends, but who the hell are you?"

"You would think that an FBI profiler would be smart enough to realize that if the doctor let me in based on a whisper, it must be a pretty good reason," he said, his voice sharp and ironic. He held out a hand. "I'm Sam Wesson."

"Derek Morgan."

"Penelope Garcia." Sam nodded to both of them, figuring that if they were good enough friends to be in Spencer's hospital room while he was unconscious, he should probably try to get along with them.

"So, you going to tell me what happened? All I know is that he said he was being taken to the hospital." They exchanged glances.

"I think we should let him tell it," Morgan said cautiously. Sam just nodded.

"Fair enough. I would want the same if it were me."

"Somehow, I doubt you would get into a situation like this." Sam smirked to himself, thinking of some of the hi-jenks he and his brother had gotten up to before Dean bit the dust.

"You'd be surprised." He folded his fingers together and stared at them, wishing they were somewhere besides a hospital so that at least he could clean a gun or something to have something to do with them. Spencer shifting on the bed was loud in the air-conditioned silence.

"No," he muttered, writhing. "No, don't-" Sam brushed a hand over his forehead before Morgan could get to him to wake him. Sam was murmuring something, too softly to be understood, but it was soothingly rhythmic, and Spencer settled down again quickly.

"Not the first time I've had nightmare watch," he explained at Morgan's questioning look. "At least he doesn't hit me when I touch him." He watched Spencer for a while in silence. "You should get some sleep. I'll be up until he wakes anyway." He nodded towards the other bed. "You can take the bed if you don't want to leave." He sure as hell wasn't going to sleep without Spencer awake to protect him from overly curious FBI. He'd made sure that everything on him said Sam Wesson, but still. They were the FBI. He'd always had a fear of the FBI, rivaled only by a childhood fear of the DHS people. Luckily, though, Dean had never found out about either fear, or he would have teased him like he did about his fear of clowns.

_****_

Spencer opened his eyes slowly. Judging by the scent, he was in a hospital. He hated hospitals; they reminded him of his mother, and made him feel guilty. He smiled when he saw the tired face looking down on him, though. Looking around, he saw Morgan sleeping in a chair, and Garcia on the bed opposite him, also asleep.

"Hey, Spence," Sam whispered tenderly. Spencer raised a hand cautiously and cupped his cheek, guiding him in for a kiss. "We've been worried about you."

"Turnabout's fair play, Sam. I worry about you." Sam sighed.

"You know why I don't stay. I can't. He haunts me more than anything I've ever seen in this life." Spencer just sighed. They sat in silence for a while.

"You should get some sleep," Spencer said finally. "You stayed up all night watching over me, didn't you?" Sam nodded unapologetically.

"It's your turn for nightmare watch," he said. Spencer just nodded, having expected it. Sam had nightmares more often than not anymore. "But I can wait until you get out of here." He glanced around. "I don't like hospitals. I don't sleep well in them. Never have." Spencer nodded again, reaching over to hit the nurse call button.

"Could I get someone to come talk about me going home?" he asked when the impatient nurse finally answered the call. Sam could hear her rolling her eyes as she replied. "Great. Thanks."

"Don't thank her. She shouldn't take that tone for making her do her job."

"But if I piss her off, she'll only do her job worse," Spencer replied philosophically. Sam shrugged.

"Well, you're the one in the bed, not me."

"Not my choice. You should be in bed." Sam rolled his eyes. Morgan sat the chair up, dark eyes watching them cautiously. "Good morning, Morgan."

"Morning, Reid. How you feelin'?"

"There's a nurse on the way to talk about me getting out of here. How long is Hotch going to make me stay home?" Morgan shrugged.

"Depends on what the doc says. But probably a couple of days; maybe a week." Spencer nodded, unsurprised. Stuffy he might act, but Hotch was a bit of a mother hen at times, worrying about the rest of them.

"Hotch is your boss, right?" Spencer nodded.

"Agent Aaron Hotchner. Best boss I could ask for." Sam smiled.

"You still love your job?"

"You know, I see something new every day. And you've got to admire the creativity of the human mind, that things that on the surface seem so similar, can have so much variation. Like kidnapping. No two people kidnap for the same reasons, or commit the deed in the same manner. There's an infinite progression of possibilities. It's a challenge, figuring out the case, being smarter than the unsub."

"So I take it that's a yes, you still love your job." Spencer nodded. "Because if you get tired of it, you know Ellen and Bobby would both be happy to have you." Spencer made a face, and Sam laughed. "Not what I meant, silly. Though it might be accurate with Ellen, at least. I don't think Bobby's into that." Morgan raised an eyebrow at the innuendo that Spencer had apparently picked up. The kid was notorious for missing them.

Sam's eyes drifted shut for a second before he snapped them open again. Spencer laughed softly. "How long you been awake now, Sam?" Sam blushed slightly, knowing he'd been caught.

"Almost 36 hours," he replied after a moment of thought. "Don't worry about me, Spence."

"Staying awake 36 hours isn't healthy," the nurse said as she walked in. Sam grinned at her.

"Well, let him out, and I promise to go sleep," he bargained. She smiled, looking like it escaped despite her best efforts. She moved around the bed, checking numbers on machines, shining a flashlight into his eyes, which he grudgingly endured, checking his blood pressure. She looked up and smiled.

"As far as I can see, you're good to go," she said cheerfully. "I'll just let the doctor know. He always makes his rounds in the morning, so it won't be long." Sam snorted.

"Oh, how many times I've heard that," he muttered to Spencer, who laughed shortly.

"You can sleep here. I'm awake now." Sam shook his head.

"No, that's ok. Don't worry; I can go for 52 before it even starts to effect my driving."

"All the same, I'm driving once we get out of here." Sam laughed.

"D would be horrified, I'm sure," he said. "Me letting a stranger drive his baby."

"I'm not a stranger!" Spencer exclaimed. Sam shrugged.

"As far as he's concerned, you are."

"D?" Morgan asked, drawing their attention back to him. Sam shrugged.

"My brother, Devon," he said glibly. "He died a while back."

"I'm sorry," Morgan said, looking as though he was afraid he was stepping into a sensitive subject. Sam shrugged again, more casually this time.

"You didn't know. It's only natural to be curious." He stood, moving to the bathroom, either because he needed to go or to escape their eyes, neither were sure. The doctor had showed up by the time he came back out. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but didn't say anything. Spencer was chattering rapidly with the doctor, and from the looks on Morgan and Garcia's faces none of the three of them were even trying to follow the conversation. Sam caught Spencer's eye as he came back out, but leaned casually against the wall waiting for the doctor's verdict.

"There's no reason you can't leave," the doctor said finally. "I mostly wanted you to stay overnight for observation and to make sure the drug worked its way out of your system safely." Sam's eyes widened and he looked at Spencer pointedly. Spencer looked down, refusing to meet his eye. "But you seem to have processed most of it out already, which is remarkable for the quantity you told me of." Spencer nodded. Morgan stood, pulling out his cell phone as he headed towards the door.

Spencer's check-out was sped up to a degree that seemed ridiculous to Sam, who had been in more than his fair share of hospitals all his life and was used to their usual operation.

"I'm FBI," Spencer said, catching his look, which made Morgan and Garcia turn to look at them. "It's not very fair, but I suppose they want me out of here and back to catching bad guys as quickly as possible." Sam cracked a smile.

"That and they probably thought that if they kept us long enough, either dad or D would show symptoms of whatever mental disorder they'd decided they had." He shrugged at Spencer's look. "It usually was dad or D. They thought I was an angel, most of the time." They started walking to the Impala. "And anyway, I think you owe me a story, Spence. How'd you land yourself in the hospital, anyway?" Spencer sighed.

"Can we get to the car first? I don't- I don't want anyone to overhear," he said uncertainly. Sam raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"Sure, Spence." He wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist, drawing him close, and was surprised that Spencer didn't immediately pull away. He must really be in need of comfort. He pushed the thinner man's back gently against the Impala, leaning into him and kissing him softly. Spencer sighed, his muscles relaxing as he moved to wrap his arms around Sam's waist, his fingers twisting in his shirt under his jacket.

The moment was rudely interrupted by Garcia shrieking in startlement. "Garcia!" Morgan called, moving quickly towards them, only to freeze upon seeing Garcia frozen in shock being glared at by the two men, who hadn't moved more than to turn their heads towards her. Finally, Morgan grinned.

"So, is that why you're always so nervous talking to girls?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sam sighed heavily, leaning against the false-marble counter in the bathroom, staring up into the mirror. He looked like crap, and he knew it. He splashed water on his face and dried it with a paper towel, absently trying to fix his hair. After another moment or so of stalling, he sighed again and walked out the door. He felt like such a needy bastard, but he knew he wouldn't be able to relax on his own. He slowly, heavily, walked to the elevator and pushed the button.

"Can we help you?" an older gentleman asked as he stepped out of the elevator and across the hall to go through the etched glass doors. He smiled slightly, or tried to at least.

"I'm looking for Spencer Reid?" he said questioningly.

"Is something wrong?" he cursed himself for willingly putting himself around people who would be able to read how uncomfortable he was. He shook his head.

"Not really. I've just had a hell of a week, and need to see him." The black man from the hospital -Morgan?- walked into the room, looking surprised to see him. After a moment, he walked silently back out. "Do you know where he would be?" While the man was either thinking about where he would be, or trying to decide whether to answer, Sam wasn't sure, Spencer walked into the room, Morgan trailing him.

"Sam? What's wrong?" Sam shrugged.

"Hell of a week. Needed to check on you." Spencer nodded, apparently accepting that without question. Sam noticed the older man looked surprised, probably because Spencer was usually so fiercely independent. Spencer walked close enough to take Sam's face in his hands. Sam sighed and let his eyes flutter closed, relaxing.

"Have you slept at all since you left?" Spencer asked suspiciously. Shrugging guiltily, Sam shook his head. "Sam-" He held up a finger, gently pressing it against Spencer's lips.

"Don't lecture me, Spencer. I already know." Spencer moved a hand to twine their fingers together, pulling Sam's hand away from his mouth.

"I'm just worried. You're self-destructing. Even if you don't care, think about me, and ol' Bobby? How do you think he'd feel to lose you too?" Sam's jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything. Spencer pulled him forward and he nearly collapsed to rest his head on Spencer's shoulder, glad the other man was so tall, even if he was so oddly thin, because it would be really uncomfortable if Spencer was as short as Dean had been. "You get to my place and get some sleep," Spencer said after a few moments.

"No!" Sam said, panicked suddenly. Spencer gave him a pointed look. "The nightmares are getting worse. I- I'm afraid to sleep anymore." Spencer sighed.

"Ok, so maybe you could crash here. There's a couch in Hotch's office..." He trailed off. "Want me to ask?" Sam sighed, rolling his eyes and making it obvious he thought Spencer was worrying too much.

"If you must."

"He asked if you'd slept since you left. When did you leave?" the older man asked suddenly. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, mutely projecting 'I don't even know you'. "I'm David Rossi."

"The author?" Sam asked, perking up. "Dude, I think I have your books memorized." Rossi smiled slightly.

"Interesting as that fact is, you're avoiding the question." Sam sighed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"A week ago."

"You've been up for a week straight?" Morgan asked incredulously. Sam shrugged.

"I don't sleep much anyway. That and lots of caffeine get me by." He wandered off into the room Spencer had gone off into before the others realized where he was going. He stopped in the door of the conference room, startled by the pictures up on every flat surface, and then came in, walking around the room, examining the pictures, ignoring the two men and one woman watching him. "Nasty," he said finally. Spencer snorted, making Sam turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "What, Spencer?" he asked, his tone indulgent.

"Opinion, other than nasty?" he said teasingly. Sam shrugged.

"Someone was pissed. See here, this wasn't an axe like you have written, it was a small hatchet. It took several swings to make cuts that deep, that's why the ends are ragged." He shook his head. "You don't go for a weapon that small unless you want it to take a long time." JJ looked sick at the thought, and Spencer figured the only reason she'd been in here was her and Hotch had been planning the press release for the profile they'd come up with.

"What size do you think it was?" Spencer asked. Sam shrugged, holding up a hand with his fingers together. He looked at it for a moment, apparently mentally comparing.

"About six inches long, four inches wide. The base for a spike that size would be about half an inch thick, and the handle would be about a foot. They sell them at sports stores, in the camping section. It wouldn't be hard to get a hold of."

"Anything else?" Sam shrugged, ignoring Hotch's sharp eyes fixed on him.

"D would want to get more of a feel of the crime and help you solve it, but honestly, I'm exhausted, Spencer. I'm not thinking too clearly."

"So why exactly are you here?" Hotch asked. Sam shrugged again, turning to face him.

"Because Spencer is," he said honestly. "He's one of two people still alive that I feel safe around." He snorted. "The other's in South Dakota. That's a bit far to drive for a night's sleep."

"So you came up here to ask him if you could take a nap?" Sam snorted, smiling slightly at the repressed amusement in the man's voice.

"No, actually, I came up here to ask when he'd be home, maybe see if I could find a corner out of the way where I could sit and watch you guys for a while, reassure myself that he's safe here." He mock-glared at Spencer. "He's the one who decided I need to take a nap, and _now."_

"You said you hadn't slept since you left! That's been over a week, Sam!" JJ looked shocked at his exclamation, but for some reason, Hotch didn't. Sam steeped forwards and caught Spencer's face in his hands.

"Don't worry about me, Spencer. It's not worth it." He kissed him gently on the forehead. "_I'm _not worth it." Spencer wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close.

"Don't say that, Sam," Spencer protested softly. "You and mom are all I have."

"Yeah? Well, this portion of all you have is feeling like a damn shitty person you'd be better off without." Spencer's arms tightened around him.

"That's not true. You've always wanted to help people, since we met when you were eleven. You're a good person, and good people are always worth worrying about." He kissed Sam lightly on the lips, jerking a surprised gasp from JJ, though Hotch remained silent. "You just can't give up, Sammy. You've been in this game longer than I have; if you burn out, what do I have to look forwards to?" Sam just looked at him sadly.

"You're stronger than I am, Spencer. You always have been. You're like D, not me."

"Great comparison there," Spencer said sarcastically. Sam looked away. "Come on, Sam. I didn't mean it that way. Just- it got to him. That's all."

"It got to him because of me." The whisper was so soft, Spencer barely heard it. He pulled away.

"You know what, screw this. Hotch, I really need the rest of the day off to deal with this idiot. Please?" Hotch sighed, but he could tell that if he said no, he wouldn't get anything worthwhile out of him anyway, he'd be too busy worrying about his friend.

"Fine. See you bright and early tomorrow morning." Spencer relaxed and smiled.

"Thanks, Hotch," he said, gratitude infusing his voice. Hotch just nodded. Spencer wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders. "Come on, Sammy. Let's get you home."


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer's phone rang, making Morgan and Hotch turn to look at him. He looked at the display, and frowned. "It's Sam," he said before he answered it, worry and confusion in his voice. "Sam? What's wrong? Why are you calling?"

"Where are you?" Sam's voice came over the loudspeaker. He sounded worried, almost afraid.

"We're in Kansas City, Kansas on a case. Sam, what's wrong?"

"We'll be there in five hours. I can't exactly explain over the phone." And with that, he hung up. Spencer just stared at his phone in confusion for a long moment.

"So, what was that?" Morgan asked. Spencer shrugged.

"You know as much as I do, and we're not going to get any more information from him right now. So let's not worry about it. We have a job to do." He turned back to the board where they had a map pinned up that he was working a geographic profile on, apparently undisturbed by his lover's cryptic phone call. Morgan and Hotch exchanged glances before they returned to what they'd been doing.

"So where we goin', Sammy?" Dean asked suddenly. Sam glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"Kansas City."

"Kansas, or Missouri?"

"Kansas. Though, actually, they're just across the river from each other. The river delineates the border."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. We were there once as kids, remember?" After a second, Sam nodded.

"Sorry, Dean. I'm just still a bit freaked out. That's why we're going in the first place."

"So, what's in Kansas City? Or, judging by the look on your face, _who_'s in Kansas City?" Sam sighed.

"It's a long story, Dean."

"It's a long drive." Sam sighed again. There was silence for a long time as Sam tried to gather his thoughts into something he could coherently explain to his brother.

"His name's Spencer Reid."

"His?" Dean asked, shocked. "Dude, I expected it to be your girlfriend or something." Sam didn't respond. "Sammy?"

"He's a genius. Super-genius, even. We just- we clicked. He's the only person I trust besides you and Bobby." Dean was silent for a long time, staring out his window. "After- after you died, I stayed with him a month or so, until I couldn't stand staying still anymore. And I generally spent about a week every month there. It got to the point that I couldn't sleep unless I was with either him or Bobby." Dean pursed his lips.

"I guess I should be grateful to him for taking care of you, then," he said finally. Sam grinned and slapped him on the leg.

"He was better than the other choice, let me tell you. Ruby was hanging around for a bit while I was there. Spencer threatened to arrest her for stalking. It was beautiful. He pointed his gun at her and she actually looked afraid. It was hilarious."

"Ruby's a bitch. The only good thing she's ever done was give you that damn knife." Sam didn't say anything, since contradicting Dean would only start an argument. He thought Ruby'd helped a bit more than that, though.

"Dr. Reid? Two men just came into the station looking for you," a random officer stuck his head into the conference room they were using.

"Send them back, please," Spencer said absently, not looking away from his map. Something was bothering him about it, but he couldn't figure out what. The officer looked at him, then shrugged and left. "Sam, what's wrong with this map?" he asked as soon as he heard them come in. The two men looked at each other, then moved to stand beside him.

"There's no center," Sam said after a long moment. "The points are scattered equally across the city. They focus on the strip, but there's disappearances from everywhere, pretty much equally. Your map's useless." Spencer sighed.

"I was afraid of that," he said mournfully. Sam laughed. "It's a housecleaner, Sam. And there's already 63 missing, that we know of." Sam sobered quickly.

"I'm sorry." Spencer turned suddenly and looked at the duo. He turned to Sam with a raised eyebrow. "Spencer, I'm not quite sure how to tell you this. You remember me talking about my brother? Well, this is him."

"That's your brother?" Morgan said suddenly from the door, making the two hunters spin in shock. "I thought you said he was dead." Sam shrugged.

"I thought he was," he explained. "He just got back in contact a couple of days ago. Anyway, D, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, the ridiculously decorated." He winked at Spencer, who rolled his eyes. He'd introduced him the same way when he met Bobby.

"Ridiculously decorated?" Dean asked with interest.

"I have PhD's in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering, BA's in Psychology and Sociology, and I'm working on one in Philosophy," Spencer explained. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Impressive. I have a GED. Never did like school."

"He's a kinetic learner. Great mechanic, but he doesn't really care about anything besides cars and hunting." Dean shrugged.

"What can I say, I'm a man of simple pleasures. But you skipped something, Sammy." Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname. Spencer gave him a questioning look. "Family, and cheeseburgers. I guess that's two somethings, actually." Sam laughed. Morgan was astonished to see the change in the man from apparently nothing more than finding his brother. He was like a completely different man. Sam noticed his look.

"When family's all you have, it becomes pretty damn important. I never had a stable home, or any real friends. We moved too much. All I had was dad, and D. Even Bobby and Spencer are less important to me than family. Though not by much, anymore." Spencer walked over to put his hands on Sam's shoulders, staring into his eyes.

"Are you alright, really?" he asked quietly, but seriously. Sam shrugged, smiling slightly.

"A bit freaked out. But other than that, I'm better than I've been in a long time." Spencer nodded slowly, wondering where they were going to go from here. Sam had told him once that he'd never even told Dean he was bi, worried about how he would react. Sam's smile widened a fraction, and he leaned forwards to kiss Spencer softly, ignoring Dean sputtering behind him. Morgan snorted and shook his head, turning to flip through the paperwork on the table, looking to see if he saw anything new. Dean spun to face him.

"You knew about this?" he demanded when he saw that Morgan looked totally un-shocked. Morgan nodded.

"We all did. Sam's shown up a couple of times, out of the blue. Sometimes it's because Reid was hurt, sometimes he apparently just needed to see him. But they're always pretty affectionate. We're used to it by now." He shrugged, smiling slightly. "It makes the kid happy. That's all I care about." Dean nodded slowly.

"I suppose you're right. As long as Sammy's happy..." He sighed heavily and pulled back one of the chairs to sit in it, his elbows hitting the table sharply as he leaned forwards to cradle his head in his hands. "Things are so weird now," he muttered into his hands. Morgan clapped him on the shoulder.

"It'll get better. You just haven't been around to see things changing." He paused. "Why were you gone, anyway?" Dean shrugged, not looking at him.

"I was hurt, really badly. He must have missed me somehow. It's not his fault. But it took me this long to get back on my feet and find him." He sighed. "God, my baby brother's gone and grown up on me while I was out of it. Let's hope this relationship goes better than the last one did," he muttered, quietly enough that Sam didn't hear him.

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, equally quietly. Dean glanced at Sam and Spencer, and shook his head. He stood and headed out the door. Morgan followed him.

"Sam's last serious relationship ended when his girlfriend got caught in a fire in their apartment. She died."

"Man, I'm sorry." Dean shrugged.

"Well, it didn't really affect me much. I just didn't want to remind Sammy. He had nightmares about it for months." Dean shook his head slowly. "I really do wish those two well, though. Sammy deserves some happiness by now." Morgan clapped him on the shoulder and went back into the room, leaving Dean to watch them through the window.


End file.
